Before riding on to Bickley cottage, Andrew stopped briefly in the village of Little Longstone to make some purchases. Just as he was about to enter the smithy, an odd sensation prowled through him. He turned around, his gaze panning the area. Rows of shops, several dozen pedestrians, a curricle with a man and a young girl perched upon the seat, two young ladies chatting under a blue-and-white-striped awning. No one appeared to be paying him any particular attention, yet he strongly sensed that someone was watching him. And it was the second time today he’d experienced the same sensation.

About an hour ago, while still en route from London, he’d felt the same warning tingle. He’d reined in Aphrodite, but had not seen or heard anyone. Still, the eerie feeling persisted, and even stronger than before. But who would be watching him? And why? Was it possible he was imagining it? He couldn’t deny he was tired, and many thoughts occupied his mind. No doubt it was just his preoccupation run amuck. Still, he’d make certain to remain alert.

After finishing his business with the blacksmith, Andrew rode to Bickely cottage, where he spent a few minutes chatting with Fritzborne at the stables before striding quickly across the lawns toward the house, eager to see Catherine and Spencer. He’d keenly missed them, suffering a deep, echoing emptiness that had plagued him since departing Little Longstone yesterday. Returning felt like coming home-a warm feeling he hadn’t experienced in more than a decade.

Late-afternoon sunshine gilded the house, making it look as if a halo surrounded the dwelling, and he quickened his pace. He’d been away for a mere thirty-six hours, yet it had felt like years. No doubt because it was actually thirty-seven hours. And twenty-two minutes. Not that he was counting.

Milton opened the door with a forbidding frown, which immediately relaxed when he saw Andrew standing at the threshold. “Ah, it is you, sir.”

Andrew raised his brows and smiled. “Clearly you were expecting someone else.”

“Actually, I was hoping there would be no further callers this afternoon.” He cleared his throat. “Present company excluded, of course. Although, you are not a caller. You are a guest. Please come in, Mr. Stanton. Seeing you at the door is a welcome relief.”

“Thank you.” Andrew entered the foyer. His shoulders tensed as he noted the new tremendous flower arrangement. “Looks as if the Duke of Kelby has emptied his conservatory again.”

A ghost of a smile whispered across Milton’s thin lips. “Yes. How fortunate for us. Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth blessedly sent smaller tributes.”

“Are Lady Catherine and Spencer about?”

“They’re strolling in the gardens.” He heaved a sigh. “I do so hate to disturb them.”

“No need to on my account.”

“Not you, sir.” He jerked his head toward the corridor and curled his upper Up. “Them.”

“Them?”

“The duke and Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth. The notes they sent with their flowers this morning indicated they wished to call, however none of them wrote that they planned to visit today.”

“And they’re all in the drawing room?”

“I’m afraid so. I kept them at bay, standing on the porch for a bit, but with all three of them, it became quite crowded. And loud. I suggested quite firmly they return another time, but they all flatly refused to go. A few moments ago they threatened to storm the gardens in search of Lady Catherine. To keep them from doing so, I reluctantly showed them into the drawing room, and I’ve since been plotting a way to get rid of them that does not involve coshing them all with a skillet.”

“I see.” Andrew thoughtfully tapped his chin. “I think I may be able to assist you, Milton.”

“I’d be most grateful, sir.”

“Consider it done.”


Still laughing over her son’s humorous imitation of a toad, Catherine and Spencer entered the house through the rear terrace doors, then made their way toward the foyer. The time spent with her son had helped Catherine settle her chaotic thoughts and form a new resolve. Her relationship with Andrew was a lovely, pleasant diversion she would enjoy for the remainder of the short time he’d remain in Little Longstone. When he returned to London, she would go on with her life, caring for Spencer, enjoying her independence, free from the encumbrances that had stifled her during her marriage. As Today’s Modern Woman should, she would look back on her affair with fond memories and wish Andrew a long, prosperous life. For, other than this brief interlude, there simply was no room for him in her life.

As she and Spencer approached the foyer, the sound of several masculine voices reached them.

“Who is that?” Catherine murmured.

They entered the foyer through the archway opposite the front door, and she halted as if she’d walked into a wall of glass. And stared.

The Duke of Kelby, Lord Avenbury, and Lord Ferrymouth stood in the foyer, each in turn shaking hands with Andrew, while Milton stood at the door with a suspiciously smug expression on his face. As if seeing this unexpected assortment of men in her foyer weren’t surprising enough, it was the condition of the men that stunned her. The duke’s right eye was nearly swollen shut and surrounded by an angry bruise. Lord Avenbury held a handkerchief that bore unmistakable streaks of blood pressed to his nose, while Lord Ferrymouth sported a bottom lip three times its normal size.

She turned to look at Spencer, who was gawking at the scene with a stunned expression she imagined mirrored her own. At that moment, Lord Avenbury turned and caught sight of her. Instead of a welcoming smile, he looked… frightened? He jabbed Lord Ferrymouth with his elbow, then jerked his head toward Catherine. Lord Ferrymouth’s eyes widened, and he in turn nudged the duke. All three stared at her for several seconds, their countenances bearing varying degrees of what looked like alarm. Then they mumbled a jumble of unintelligible words while stepping hastily toward the door, which Milton opened with a flourish. After the gentlemen hurried from the house, Milton closed the door with a resounding bang, then brushed his hands together as if ridding them of dirt. He and Andrew exchanged satisfied gins.

Catherine cleared her throat to find her voice. “What on earth happened to the duke and Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth?”

Both men turned toward her. Milton immediately rearranged his features into his usual inscrutable mask. Her gaze met Andrew’s, and warmth suffused her. Unmistakable pleasure, along with a healthy dose of heat, flared in his eyes, filling her mind with a wealth of sensual images and tingling a shiver down her spine.

Andrew bowed at the waist. “Lovely to see you again, Lady Catherine.” He shot Spencer a wink. “You, too, Spencer.”

Ignoring the flutterings Andrew’s presence set up in her stomach, she crossed the foyer, Spencer at her side. Before she could speak again, Spencer looked at Andrew, and asked, his voice an awed hush, “I say, did you plant those blokes facers?”

Andrew grasped his lapels, his expression turning very serious. “During the course of my duties, I’m afraid that I did.”

Catherine stared. “Do not tell me that you used your fists against those gentlemen.”

“Very well, I won’t tell you that.”

“Dear God. You punched them?”

“Well, it is impossible not to use one’s fists while engaged in pugilism. When the gentlemen learned of my”-he coughed modestly into his hand-“stellar reputation at Gentleman Jackson’s Emporium, they insisted upon a lesson. As they were your guests, I thought it would be rude to refuse them.”

“I see. And how did they hear of your stellar reputation?”

“I told them.”

A sound that could only be described as a giggle erupted from Spencer.

Catherine swallowed her own inappropriate desire to giggle. “And how, precisely, did all this come about?”

“When I arrived from London,” Andrew said, “I discovered the three gentlemen in the drawing room. Quite a sight they made, all perched on the settee like a flock of fat-breasted pigeons upon a branch, glaring at each other, elbowing, vying for more room. As you were nowhere about, I offered to entertain them in your stead. During the course of our pugilism lesson, they unfortunately sustained their injuries-which are quite minor by the way.” He shook his head. “Not the heartiest of fellows, I fear, although Lord Avenbury’s uppercut showed some promise. After our lesson, I informed the gentlemen that I’d been giving lessons to Spencer… and intended to give them to you as well, Lady Catherine.”

Catherine actually felt her jaw drop. “Me?”

“They were just as surprised, I assure you, but I told them that such lessons were necessary because of the rampant crime nowadays. After all, Today’s Modern Woman must be able to defend herself, do you not agree?”

She wasn’t certain if she were more amused or horrified. “I suppose, although I cannot imagine that a woman’s most effective weapon would be her fists.”

“Precisely why the element of surprise would work so well.”

“I can only surmise that the gentlemen were quite taken aback.”

“My dear Lady Catherine, the way you’re following this story, why it’s almost as if you were in the room. Yes, they were all quite stunned. I can only hope you were not overly desirous of their company because I don’t think any of them will be back.”

“Indeed? And why is that?”

“Because they’re all afraid of you.”

Laughter bubbled in her throat, and she pressed her lips together to contain it.

“Well, I for one am glad they won’t be back,” Spencer said. “Pests, that what they were, all trying to impress Mum.” He smiled at Andrew. “And I’m happy you’ve returned, Mr. Stanton.”